Chased
by ChasingTheStarlight
Summary: When Scabior gets attacked in a forest after mysterious events, the Snatcher begins to suspect that someone/something might regard him as a prey...
1. Chapter 1

**Important Notice**: I just wanted to warn potential readers about me not being a native speaker of the English language! I decided to write this fic in English because I couldn't picture the characters of _Harry Potter _speaking French (my mother tongue), haha. Also, I love how English is such a wonderfully creative language...

So PLEASE do not hesitate to correct any mistakes you find in my writing. I'd be very grateful :-)! And feel free to review (I'd be very grateful too!).

Hope you enjoy (this is my first fanfic EVER)!

**Rating**: Rated T

**Disclaimer**: Of course, I don't own _Harry Potter_

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**~ Chapter I ~**

As he was walking through the dark forest, his feet barely touching the ground, his slender legs having been trained to move felinely, his ears suddenly caught the slightest noise. Really, it was only a small whisper, carried by the chilly wind. The biting cold mixed with this low chant made the hair at the top of his neck stand on end. He froze. It was there, somewhere in the woods, this sound. It stopped and Scabior's eyes searched between the dark trunks, trying to pierce through the nocturnal mist. Nothing. It was gone. The dirge, the murmur; it had died.

The cold air was running around the Snatcher's body, slowly lingering on his skin, embracing him, biting him. The silence of the night was now complete, almost supernatural. Scabior wasn't used to be afraid. Actually, fear wasn't part of his vocabulary, except when it was him inducing it. However, in the gloomy stillness of the night, here in this lonely forest, with as only companion the whispering keen he had just heard, a small, tiny little twitch of fear suddenly caught his stomach. Annoyed at himself, Scabior shook his head.

_Ye__ can't let yourself get impressed by this type of things, Scab_, he thought.

_Well, ye__ might even 'ave imagined it. Of course ye 'ave, ye're exhausted after this long 'unt ye 'ad the other day,_ he reassured himself.

_And wot__ is frightening in a whisper in the middle of the night, eh? _

Smiling at himself, Scabior decided to walk further. He was unafraid. Nothing could frighten a lead Snatcher... right?

After Scabior had taken a few steps further, a sudden, strong gust of wind hit a nearby tree, making some white, powdery snow twirl in the freezing air. His cocky smile vanished abruptly. Scabior jumped, wand raised.

"Who's there?" he shouted.

He immediately after cursed himself for the small trembling in his rough voice. Of course, no answer was given. Once again, the forest stood remarkably still. This time, the small twitch of fear in Scabior's stomach turned into the heavy pounding of his heart.

_Wot the 'ell is 'appening '__ere? _he thought.

The pounding inside him became stronger, filling his ears with the rushing sound of his blood. Suddenly, he felt as if two very cold hands brushed his nape. The Snatcher stiffened. His breath caught inside his lungs and he closed his eyes. The freezing touch faded instantly. Absolutely motion and breathless, Scabior waited for something to happen. After what seemed like to be an eternity, his Snatcher instinct reached his brain, shouting at him:

_Coward!__ Open them! Open yer eyes!_

Without hesitating, Scabior opened his eyelids. The forest looked exactly the same as before. Slowly, the air stuck in his lungs released itself. His muscles relaxed a little bit and he even decided to secure his wand back under his studded belt. Aware of his own weakness, the Snatcher emitted a small snigger.

"Bloody f..."

He didn't have time to finish his sentence. One freezing finger had begun to trace his backbone, moving from the root of his hair to the collar of his leather jacket; where it stopped. The touch sent goosebumps all over his body. Unwilling, _unable_, to turn around, Scabior felt how sheer panic was rising inside of him. The gentle, almost seductive caress made its way up again until it reached the Snatcher's bushy hair. The finger was then replaced by the two hands which slowly moved along his trapezium muscles and then, around his neck.

The fear was so intense that Scabior didn't even dare look down to see if actual hands were touching him. His grey-blue eyes were wide open this time, his lungs again constricted in expectation. The hands took their time, slowly moving along his carotid, where the deafening sound of his pulse was resonating through his skull. The frozen limbs stayed pressed against the pulse in his neck for a long period of time until they were joined by another wave of cold that made Scabior shudder. It was as if an icy body had just pressed itself against his back. The Snatcher closed his eyes again. He couldn't bear it any longer.

The cold was so intense that he felt himself become numb. His thoughts, however panicked they were, begun to feel like cotton.

_A nice sleep... maybe..._

The cold figure must have felt his giving up because the hands suddenly moved along his neck again. Scabior's eyes opened. He even managed to get a gulp of fresh air. His inhalation was however caught in the middle when what seemed to be two soft, almost velvety but still freezing lips brushed his nape. The Snatcher froze even more.

_This '__as to be a dream. This just cannot be 'appening! _

At first light and gentle, the lips became more demanding as they moved to the crook of his neck. Scabior's chest felt as if it were going to explode. Fear? Panic? ...Pleasure? He could not even decipher what was raging inside of him. The Snatcher almost snapped when the lips parted and teasing teeth begun to play with his skin. The hands, which were still moving along his neck, suddenly tightened their grip and slowly compressed his windpipe. The sudden lack of air mingled with the intoxicating nibbling of the icy mouth triggered what felt like a wave of pleasure through Scabior who couldn't help but let out a strangled moan.

However, the numbness caused by the unbearable cold pressed against him didn't happily mix with the lack of air. The straight trunks of the forest started swaying in front of the Snatcher's eyes as a dark veil covered his sight. He felt himself fall into unconsciousness.

Before the blackness overwhelmed him completely, he felt the sharp sting of a blade piercing through his back.

And everything sunk into darkness...


	2. Chapter 2

**Important Notice: **see beginning of Chapter I

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Harry Potter_

**Author's Note:** This chapter is still some sort of introduction. The real action with the rest of the Snatchers should come with the next chapter!

**This is my first fanfic ever! So let me know what you think :-)! I'd love to improve myself!**

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**~ Chapter II ~**

The sun was playing through the naked branches of the forest, leaving dancing polka dots on the snowy ground. One lonely winter bird was flying under the leafless canopy, hesitant, not knowing where to safely land. After whirling in the air for some time, it tightly encircled a high twig with its tiny claws. Tilting its feathery head from one side to the other, it contemplated the forest floor from its privileged position. Everything was calm, untouched. Pure. Everything... with the exception maybe of the strange form ungracefully contrasting with the surrounding whiteness. The bird bent its head on one side again, feeling suddenly insecure. The form made a hoarse noise to which the bird responded with a shrill tweet. Not long after that, the shape seemed to start moving. The bird then quickly spread its wings and flew away...

Scabior felt broken. Every inch of his body was screaming for heat. Each part of his frame was worn down by an ominous numbness. He couldn't remember where he was, what had happened to him. Everything in his head was blank. It took him all of his remaining strength to open his eyes. The sudden burst of light attacked his retinas and caused him to wince and blink several times. When finally, his pupils adapted themselves to the brightness of the sun, he was able to make out his surroundings.

He seemed to be lying on his stomach, on the snow, somewhere in a forest. As he stayed there, motionless, his left cheek kissing the icy ground, his brain began to recollect the events that had led him to his present condition.

The murmur. The hands. The cold. The... _blade_?

Scabior's heart started to race. He had been stabbed! In the back. Hadn't he? Gathering all of his willpower, the Snatcher tried to raise one arm... unsuccessfully. How could he possibly move when he wasn't even able to feel that he had a body? He closed his eyes again.

_Ye must be in __a state of 'ypothermia. Ye must be fuckin' frozen, _he thought.

An unexplainable wave of anger started to build up in his chest. This couldn't be the end of him. No way. He was far much stronger than this!

_Ye__'d better move, stupid body,_ he threatened himself. _Ye are a Snatcher, ye cannot die like this! Move! _

This loud internal yell manifested itself by a low growl inside of his throat, echoed somewhere by what seemed to be some light whistling. He eventually managed to fold his right arm, bringing his hand close to his face. A deep shudder ran through his body when he noticed the dark plum colour of his fingers.

_Shit._

He indeed was frozen.

Everything then started to rush inside of his head. He became aware of what felt like an immense amount of terrible facts. The snow in front of his eyes was not as perfectly white as he thought it was a few seconds earlier. No, actually, it had a strange reddish shade. He was alone, all by himself, in a remote Scottish forest. He was probably going to die. And... the pain. The excruciating pain in his back. It was as if he were being stabbed again and again, by the same, torturing, unrelenting blade. Scabior pictured that every throb in his back coincided with less blood in his veins. The image tied a nauseous knot inside of his throat.

The Snatcher's eyes began to sting and a small whimper of despair left his lungs. However, this sign of complete helplessness only lasted for an instant. A few seconds later, he had recovered his raw personality and his brain was ardently looking for an escape.

_I need to get back to the group..._

This sentence was bouncing against the walls of his mind when it suddenly reached its goal. Apparating! It was the only solution. He needed to gather enough strength in order to focus on his destination and manage to go there without splinching. Scabior took a deep breath and started to picture the camp, the tents, the fire... Even Greyback if it could help! It was nevertheless extremely difficult, since the tension of his mind reflected on his body and caused the pain in his back to reach an intensity that would prevent him from thinking.

Each attempt seemed to be bound to failure. Worse, each try took away parts of his strength.

_One last time_...

Scabior closed his eyes, focusing his entire self on the Snatchers' camp, every muscle in his body tensing in the process. The pain in his back shot in his head but it was too late. He had done it. He felt himself squeezed through a narrow tunnel.

This was his last conscious thought. A few instants later, he appeared on a hardwood ground, next to a cracking fire, lifeless.

The dark limbos had sucked him in once again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Important Notice: **see beginning of Chapter I

**Disclaimer: **I still do not own _Harry Potter_ (which, unfortunately, includes Scabior... *sighs*)

**Author's Note: **First chapter of 2011 :D! **I wish you all a Happy New Year!**

And... well... **reviews **(even one is good) would be the BEST New Year's present I could get, haha! But I don't want to put pressure on anyone... XD That sounds a bit Dobbyish: "Dobby didn't mean to kill anyone. Dobby only meant to maim or seriously injure..." lol.

**PS: **I decided to change the genre of my story from Drama to Mystery/Romance because there _will _be some romance in later chapters (my OC has to show up sooner or later, hasn't she? :-). Just to let you know!

Enjoy!

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**~ Chapter III ~**

"What the..." Greyback bellowed when a loud crack resonated through the camp.

He had been on guard since the early morning. Pete and Cole had gone to look for Scabior who hadn't shown up at 3 am as planned. Greyback hated being on guard, it felt like a punishment to stay around the tents, waiting for some easy prey to fall into his clawed grip. He was a hunter. A sadistic, unstoppable hunter. Not a campsitter.

An instinctive tension had been building up inside the werewolf for some hours, now. He was feeling the growing urge to kill and he was beginning to consider he might go and slaughter some deer before the others came back. This feral need was increased by the thrill, the excitement he felt about Scabior's mysterious absence. The lead Snatcher was never late. On the contrary, he was always a few seconds ahead of everyone. He was the most cunning. These facts gave a ghastly flavour to his lateness. And Greyback loved ghastly. Especially when concerning the man who had taken his rightful position as the leader of the Ministry's best group of Snatchers.

He hated Scabior. Every part of his being profoundly loathed this handsome, smug yet unbearably attractive Snatcher. Greyback believed his unusual strength and acute senses should have designated him as the perfect leader. But no. Umbridge had decided otherwise. He would only be the second-in-command. But not for much longer...

This is why Greyback let out a howl of rage when he saw his boss' body lying on the forest floor, a few inches away from the fire. Why couldn't he just have disappeared without a trace?

Almost instantly however, the strong, delicious sent of blood reached his nostrils and he growled in pleasure.

_Wounded, are you?_

Such a new, substantial amount of possibilities was being offered to Greyback at this stage. Scabior lay on the floor, unconscious, his whole body extremely pale and his leather jacket soaked in what unmistakably was his own blood.

_Vulnerable..._

_But not dead. _

Greyback bared his teeth. His keen ear could detect the light, weak flutter of Scabior's heart.

_Not dead... but dying..._

_Good._

Greyback wasn't going to react. He would stay there, sat next to the fire. He would watch with overwhelming delight his enemy bleed to death.

_That sounds just like a good Sunday plan. _

Unfortunately for Greyback's cheerful programme, Cole and Pete apparated a few minutes later wearing tragic expressions.

"We couldn't find..."

"Boss!" Cole shouted, running across the camp to where Scabior's inanimate body lay.

With a growl, Greyback sprang to his feet and blocked his way, a feral light dancing in his look. Cole froze, his young, still innocent eyes gazing up in fear.

For a second, Greyback contemplated telling his colleagues that Scabior was dead. It was not far from true since, from what he could hear, the lead Snatcher had only a few minutes to live. On the other hand, he knew that Pete, the "doctor" of the group, would examine Scabior's body and realize that he and Cole had been lied to. This could not happen. If Greyback wanted to overthrow Scabior, he needed to have the other Snatchers' full trust.

Reluctantly, he moved a little bit, letting Pete and Cole run to their boss' side. The former soon ordered:

"In my tent, now!"

Greyback didn't react. He would _not_ help! However, two pairs of eyes were watching him intently and he felt obliged to do as he was told. Digging his claws into the callous skin of his palms, he walked to the slender body and easily flung it over his right shoulder. Pete barked:

"Are you out of your mind? This is gonna kill him!"

"Sure." Greyback mumbled, making his way to Pete's tent and roughly dropping Scabior onto the cot.

"Now, 'hope _this_ killed you." he muttered.

As Greyback walked past Pete while making his way out of the tent, he, to his utter discontent, could still hear the unbearable beat of Scabior's heart.

He went back to the fire, where Cole was already sat, his eyes staring at the floor. When he smelt Greyback, before actually feeling him, the young man huddled up as if the werewolf were going to punch him, and slightly shifted to the right.

Minutes passed by silently. Cole, every once in a while, dared to raise his look to the tent's entrance, eyes wide open, anxiety painted all over his skinny face. Greyback had to repress an angry growl each time. What was wrong with this youngster? He had been a Snatcher for almost one month now and his ridiculous worshipping of Scabior seemed to increase day after day. It seemed to only be a matter of time before he would erect a statue bearing the effigy of his boss and kiss it every night before going to sleep.

After some twenty minutes of waiting, Pete's tall frame got out of the tent, a satisfied smile dancing on the man's lips.

"He's gonna make it." he simply stated.

Greyback was about to emit a furious roar when he was fortunately interrupted by Cole's loud cry of victory.

_This guy's insane. What kind of wei__rd crush does he have on Scabior?_

Greyback chuckled under his breath, salacious images forming inside his head. Pete got round the fire and sat down in front of his two co-workers.

"The cold saved him. It curbed the blood flow... 'guy was stabbed." he added.

Cole's eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of his head.

"St... stabbed?" he stammered.

"Yes. Stabbed. No curse was used on him. I healed the wound on his back with some Dittany and used a few spells to warm his body up."

"Sounds just like a Muggle attack, huh?" Greyback scoffed.

Pete ignored Cole's outraged yelp when responding:

"Well... it might be."

"Wow! Greyback exclaimed ironically. Just how great our leader is!"

An awkward silence followed this bold statement until...

"'Beg yer pardon?" replied Scabior's teasing voice.

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**Author's Note: Thanks for reading, it means a lot!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Important Notice: **see beginning of Chapter I.

**Disclaimer: **...I still do not own _Harry Potter_...

**Author's Note: **Many many thanks to Blizzen and Alizbeta for reviewing my story! That's sooo nice of you :D!

I had quite a hard time writing this chapter and I don't even know why. Next chapter will be full of action, so stay tuned ;-)! I don't know when I'll be able to update, though. I've got some scary exams ahead of me which should take a lot of my time. But... we'll see!

Enjoy!

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**~ Chapter IV ~**

Scabior was standing in front of Pete's tent, a defying smile dancing on his lips. He was feeling much better. The wound in his back only tickled him a little bit and his limbs had been successfully rescued from freezing. Just in time for Greyback to reveal his true opinion on his fellow Snatcher.

The werewolf's expression was jumping from surprise, to fear (only slightly) back to surprise and, finally, to anger. In a split second, he was on his feet, teeth bared, with an infuriated look on his hairy face. A low, menacing growl emanated from his bulky chest.

Scabior's smile faded a little bit.

_So, the werewolf was really serious about this... _

The two alpha men were scrutinizing each other with an intensity that seemed to create an electric tension between them. If one look could kill, even the air would have died by now.

Scabior didn't move. He carefully analyzed Greyback's body language. He could see how every muscle in his savage body was ready to pounce on him. However, it didn't scare him. He felt a little insecure, but not frightened.

Greyback's breath was becoming heavier with every second passing by. He would not be able to control himself much longer. He felt it. The urge, the need to set about Scabior. To rip him apart. To make him suffer. Suddenly, one of his claws roughly dug in his palm and he made a swift step forward. Scabior was ready.

"_Crucio_!" he snarled.

Greyback almost made a puppy sound when falling to the ground, his face distorted by pain.

Scabior's smile grew wider.

"So now doggy doesn't want to play anymore..." he sniggered, walking closer to the wriggling body.

Pete and Cole were watching the scene, breathless. They knew they shouldn't interrupt this settling of scores. However, they started to feel uncomfortable when they realized that Scabior wasn't planning on ending the curse too soon. They could see how Greyback's eyes were getting watery and blurred, almost as if he were going to pass out from the unbearable amount of pain crashing through his body.

Scabior saw it too and reluctantly withdrew the spell. As much as he hated the werewolf, he needed his strength against stubborn Dissenters. With a disdainful sniff, he turned his back on the hunched form at his feet and walked to his tent. Before entering it, he shouted:

"That's enough for today. I want everyone ready at 6 am tomorrow morning, right?"

Pete and Cole shyly nodded and let their boss go inside his tent. As soon as he was out of sight, the two men jumped to their feet and ran to the tent they were sharing. When Greyback would come round, they didn't want to be anywhere close to him.

When Scabior entered his tent, he made sure to cast a few protective spells around the entrance. He knew that once Greyback would regain consciousness, his most feral instincts would summon him to rip everything in his way apart. Especially if it had the shape of a lean, crazy-haired Snatcher.

A few minutes after these thoughts, the whole camp resounded with deafening roars that indicated Scabior was right. The word "kill" could be discerned a considerable amount of times which made the lead Snatcher chuckle silently.

Going to his cot, he lay down on his back and watched the shadows on the canvas stretch as the sun went down. His back was still itching uncomfortably when he was left in the dark, wondering.

_Who had attacked h__im? Why? _

To the first question, he had no answer. Aside from the fact that, to his utter embarrassment, he suspected them to be a woman. A man would never have teased him the way _this_ person had. He would have gone straight to the point – killing him. Quite to the contrary, his attacker had taken their time and had seemed to enjoy the privacy of their actions as much as he had.

To the second question, however, a certain number of answers could be provided. Scabior couldn't even remember how many people he had snatched, robbed, tortured, killed, _etc._ and all these offences could stand as multiple answers to the "why" question. Even if he mainly dealt with men, he had come across a few female Mudbloods/Dissenters in his career. He used to be nicer with them, a remnant of gentlemanly attitude still lingering somewhere in his hardened self, but he never spared them. What had to be done was done. They could plead, beg and cry, he would still lead them to the Ministry. None of them had ever escaped him. Never. So who could possibly still be out there to chase after him?

"Chase after me?" Scabior scoffed. "Ye're nuts, Scab."

The night was now well advanced and Scabior could hear the nocturnal sounds play in the silence of the woods. Greyback had finally stopped his werewolf tantrum and had probably gone to hunt through the forest.

The lead Snatcher was loosely playing with his red streak, still musing on his attack, when he suddenly had the awkward feeling that the air had become abnormally electric. He propped himself on his forearms, pricking up his ears as the scar in his back painfully reminded him of his weakness. It took him a while to understand that he got the ominous sensation from the sudden silence around him. The owls had stopped hooting, the wind had ceased to murmur through the naked branches of the woods and nothing made the twigs crack somewhere in the dark. Silence.

Scabior frowned. Maybe he was getting paranoid. However, when some light scratching sound against his tent broke the stillness, he knew he wasn't. The noise started right next to him and trailed back to one of the corners of the tent. It then went on, circling him, making him feel trapped.

He knew this couldn't be Greyback's doing for his loud, bestial breath would have betrayed him by now. Plus, this light, almost sensual scratching felt more like a feminine thing.

This was like a cat and mouse game.

Scabior was beyond fear. He was in it. In the game. Whoever was behind the canvas was his attacker. Of that he was certain. And he knew that that person wanted him to play. Was teasingly enticing him to play along. This satisfaction he was ready to give them.

He sat up on his bed and leant forward, his perfectly straight nose almost touching the tent's fabric. He was waiting for the scratching sound to come back to where it had started.

When the noise came closer, he shut his eyes expectantly. That's when he captured it. The smell. The almost supernatural smell. He hadn't discerned it the other night, the fear had blocked almost all of his senses. But now, he fully enjoyed it. It smelt like...

_A light bounc__ing stream. Blue flowers. A wheatfield at sunset. Summer... _

_...but also like winter. Dark woods. A silent heath under the moonlight._

It was contradictory. Enchanting. Bewitching.

A blissful sigh escaped his mouth and transformed into a tiny cloud of steam in the unexplained, however unnoticed, sudden coldness around him.

Scabior felt as if his brain had stopped having command over his actions and before he realized what he was doing, he gently brushed his lips against the canvas.

As soon as he had done so, the scratching ceased and the silence gave way to the usual noises which now seemed to be the forest's loud howling.

Scabior lunged back and almost fell off his cot. His eyes snapped open and he looked around him, expecting someone to spy on him. No one. He was alone and the bewitching moment had gone. No more smell. No more scratching.

The Snatcher quickly pulled himself together and lay back on his cot, as far as possible from the tent's wall, though.

His thoughts were still rambling on what had happened to him when he heard Greyback come back to camp and he couldn't find some sleep for the following hours.

When finally, a semblance of slumber started to fall over him, the voices of Pete and Cole resonated somewhere next to him, announcing that the time had come to go back to work.

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**Author's Note: **again, thanks for reading! and... **REVIEWS ARE THE BEST (even if you just want to say hi, I still ADORE them)!**


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